


Perfect

by EzraTheBlue



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Photography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:07:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21910450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EzraTheBlue/pseuds/EzraTheBlue
Summary: Prompto has a lot of photographs of Ignis, but he can never catch a snap of Ignis smiling. He's determined to fill out his photo album of their trip with the perfect shot of Ignis, but how?(Written for the FFXV Holiday Gift Exchange!)
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 12
Kudos: 67
Collections: FFXV Holiday Gift Exchange 2019





	Perfect

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ragewerthers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragewerthers/gifts).



> Special thanks to my beta reader! I hope my giftee enjoys (and everyone else too)!

**Perfect**

There had to be some kind of way, Prompto was sure of it in his head and heart. If he could get a perfect snapshot of anyone, it would be Ignis.

How could Ignis be anything less than perfect in every way? Ignis was perfection incarnate to Prompto. Even after being his boyfriend for more than a year before they'd left on this road trip, Prompto hadn't found a single real flaw; Ignis was absolutely impeccable. When he cooked, even in the middle of nowhere, he could turn the simplest ingredients into a five-star meal that looked like it belonged on the cover of a magazine. When he was fighting, he was grace in human form, twisting and sliding easily through battle, kicking knives off his heels and slipping seamlessly between his twin daggers and his spear without missing a step. Even the simplest things, like sauntering across a room, the smooth way he turned the steering wheel, the elegant shift of his mouth and jawline when he spoke, he was perfect. Prompto wouldn’t have believed someone like Ignis could exist if he hadn’t met him and seen him nearly every day for over five years.

And yet, for knowing him that long and dating him for as long as he had, Prompto just couldn't catch Ignis' good side on film, let alone a smile.

Prompto had longed to capture that perfection, but for whatever reason, whenever he lifted his camera, he was always a second too late to capture Ignis’ perfection in frame. He would only catch the in-betweens, the moments when Ignis was in motion. Prompto could capture a butterfly in motion easier then he could photograph Ignis smiling, looking as perfect as he did in Prompto's mind's eye. Even when Prompto hadn’t missed the moment, he never caught that smile.

They’d been on the road for weeks now, and from Leide to Lestallum, from Cleigne to Cape Caem, Prompto still hadn’t managed to get a really good shot of Ignis for his collection. 

Now, though, they were traveling around doing jobs for Vyv, and Prompto’s camera work was on display. Now was the time. He was determined now. He was going to get the perfect shot of Ignis, wearing one of those perfect smiles, if it killed him!

He decided to start by watching Ignis cook that night at camp after he reviewed the photographs he’d taken of the empty tomb in Duscae. They’d set up at the haven for the night, Noctis snoring in his camp chair and Gladiolus engrossed in one of his novels, as Prompto went through the shots and picked out the best ones, and cleared away a few bad ones. Once he got the right angle on Ignis, he would need room on his memory card. (Did being gorgeous take up extra gigs of memory? Prompto hoped not.) 

Ignis was just getting down to business on the meat pies, the pastry covered with a damp cloth, and he was mincing up carrots and onions. Prompto gawked in awe for a moment as Ignis wielded his butcher knife with the same preternatural skill as his daggers, turning the carrots and onions into tiny little pieces, before moving on to mincing up rosemary and thyme without losing his rhythm.

“Is there something I can help you with, Prompto?” A tiny smile quirked at the corners of Ignis’ mouth, though he didn’t seem to look up. Prompto was certain Ignis never had to look at him to know he was there.

“Nah, not really! I was just watching! You could be a TV chef or something, you know? You make cooking look really good.” Prompto smiled privately, hoping nobody could see his face heating up in the dark. Ignis laughed through his nose, but didn’t stop working, hands flying as he broke down the herbs, then tossed them into the saute pan with the meat. 

“My thanks,” Ignis said, then dried his hands on a kitchen rag and cleared off his work space. The smile hadn’t left his face since Prompto approached, and Prompto basked in his glow.

“Would you mind if I tried to take a picture while you were cooking?” Prompto held up his camera. “Since you do the cooking when we camp out, and we've been doing a lot of camping out, it’ll be a fun memory of our trip!” 

“Do you think so?” Ignis’ brow knit for a moment, and he set his hands on his hips. “If you’re certain - should I pose?”

“I just want to see you in your element!” Prompto readied his camera. “Just pretend I’m not here, alright?”

“If you insist.” Ignis smiled wryly, and returned his full attention to the work board. Prompto snapped away as Ignis began to roll out the pastry, working the rolling pin and spreading the dough thin, flat, and even with ease, dusting it with little sprinkles of flour around the edges as he turned the dough and flipped it to roll the other side. He spun abruptly to stir the pot, scraping the bottom and tossing the little bits of meat and vegetables, then poured on a bit of broth from a thermos with a loud sizzle and a puff of steam. Then, he turned back to cutting the dough into rounds with a big, circular biscuit cutter, scooping up the scrap and piling up the neat little dough circles, and rolling the remnants out again. Prompto took pictures every time he thought Ignis had stilled, hoping to capture the determination in his face, the thread of thought running through his eyes, and precision of his every movement.

By the time Ignis was spooning the cooked meat mixture into the pies, Prompto had nearly filled his current memory card with new photographs of Ignis at work. Ignis lined all of the pie pockets up on a tray and set the tray on the grill, then covered the grill to make a camp oven. He turned to Prompto and bowed. “I’m afraid that’s the show. It’s merely a matter of waiting for them to cook now.”

“It was amazing to watch!” Prompto beamed. “Thanks for letting me shutterbug all over dinner! I’m gonna go pick out the best shots for the album.” He blew Ignis a kiss, which Ignis caught out of the air with a grasp of his hand and pressed to his own mouth with a coy smile. Prompto wished he’d had the camera ready for that one, because that smile, that subtle affection, melted him every time. 

However, when Prompto did settle in to review the images on his camera, he found that the photographs he’d taken just hadn’t come out right. There was motion blur with Ignis’ hands. His eyes were always at an off-angle. Everything seemed to be at an unusual angle when Ignis turned to the grill. The light hit Ignis' lenses wrong, and it made his body look unreal. Worse, he wasn't actually smiling in any of them! 

Ignis was unearthly, godlike in ways, but Prompto had hoped to capture a glimpse of that on film. Instead, Ignis was more cryptid than deity. None of these images worked. When Prompto watched Ignis cook, he saw the beauty of a delicious meal coming together. These photos were amateurish at best, like a poorly-shot documentary. Prompto would hold onto the memories of watching him cook this meal - or every meal Ignis cooked, if Prompto was being fully honest with himself - but he hadn’t captured those memories on film, not by a long shot.

Maybe it was impossible to actually put that kind of grace to film. That was fine. Prompto could catch Ignis being perfect some other way.

* * *

Ignis was at his best in battle. Prompto didn’t like admitting it, since he didn’t _enjoy_ fighting for the most part. He felt bad killing wild animals that were attacking them for invading _their_ territory, or because of the calamity riling them up, and he didn't get the adrenaline rush Gladio got in near-death situations. He tried to laugh it off, but as cool as boss battles in video games were, he didn't enjoy them in real life. Ignis, however, slid into battle like a knife through butter, switching from the measured pace of their hike across Lucis, swanning casually near the rear of their pack, to drawn daggers and a hawkish mien, ready to cut his way through any and all obstacles. 

When Prompto had to fight, it was scary. When Ignis got down to business, it was _sexy_. He was sibilant, almost like liquid as he slid through the field, graceful as he tore across the field with his knives as an extension of his hands. Even his shouts and cries were almost sensual in Prompto's ears. It helped him forget that he was about to die every other second.

Prompto tried to catch Ignis in motion during their fights. He would whip out the camera whenever he saw Ignis join up with Noctis for a hard blow against a Gigantoad with their spears. He had his finger on the camera trigger when Ignis would slide in and slash at something from beneath with his daggers. Six, when he would actually _kick_ a dagger at something? He had to steady himself long enough to take the shot. 

He definitely paid the price. Watching Ignis out of the corner of his eye meant he wasn’t watching his own back - or not even really watching his own front. He took more than a few good hits because he was more interested in watching Ignis fight than saving his own skin. Ignis would look at the healing bruises as Prompto cracked potions on himself after fights where he’d taken a smack to the chest or had a hard tumble. 

“Again, dear?” Ignis tweaked his ear as he watched Prompto mop up a nosebleed after taking a spiracorn’s hoof to the face. “You really must be more careful.”

“Sorry, Iggy! I’m multitasking.” He grinned nervously and summoned a few more tissues to shove up his nose, then fell in at the back of the pack as Noctis led them onwards. He reviewed his photos as they walked this time, dying to see how they’d turned out.

Unfortunately, the photos usually turned out the same as his cooking photos. Watching Ignis in motion was like watching an intricately choreographed ballet. Trying to capture that on film just resulted in Prompto catching motion blur. It was as if his camera was trying to capture every split second of the motion but missing the parts that actually made Prompto swoon when he saw them. Prompto only rarely saw a good moment somewhere in the middle of the blur, but the blur around it marred the rest of the shot. It was disappointing, but it seemed like catching Ignis’ battle prowess on film wouldn’t happen without a high-speed camera or computer editing software.

And of course, not one triumphant smile could be seen in the whole lot.

“At least I got to see some of his best moves while I was watching him,” he chuckled to himself, and tried to commit them to memory. He might not have captured Ignis being amazing on film, but he’d gotten an eyeful of Ignis being amazing, and that was just as good, right?

No, Prompto still needed a good shot of that smile for the album, and he knew just where to look next.

* * *

Ignis doing what Ignis did best was a sight to see, for sure, but that hadn’t gone well. Maybe that wasn’t the best way to remember him, either.

No, the best way to remember Ignis was the way he was every day. It was Ignis sitting in the driver's seat of the Regalia, one hand on the wheel and a can of Ebony in the other. Prompto sat in the passenger seat, gazing at him between conversations with Noctis and rounds of King’s Knight. The wind caressed his hair, blowing little strands loose into his eyes, and the sun glimmered off of his lenses. Prompto couldn’t help but smile fondly when he would take a sip of Ebony, toss his hair back, and adjust his glasses. He was so naturally charming, so completely at ease with himself, that Prompto knew he had to capture this side of Ignis.

He would slip his camera out every few minutes, watching for the moment to strike, and taking a snapshot whenever he saw Ignis go for the Ebony, when he’d shift his hands on the wheel, when the sun caught his eyes like sparkling glass. Prompto watched those instants, innocent grains of time trickling through the hourglass of his life, and tried to grasp them before they slipped away, lost forever. 

He could at least remember the memories trapped in his heart and head, and with any luck, captured in vivid color on his memory card.

He could swear that when he lifted his camera, Ignis was looking suave and debonair, classy and composed.

Then, he looked at the camera shots again that night.

Ignis’ hair was in his eyes in a lot of them. The sun kept hitting his glasses wrong and causing a glare. The Ebony can got in the way of his perfect mouth. The one clear shot he got had obviously been taken while Ignis was talking - Prompto recalled the moment, Ignis was talking about Tonberries carrying kitchen knives, making some hilarious joke about “cooking up trouble” - but it left Ignis’ mouth in a weird shape, instead of his usual soft smile, his zealous laughter.

For whatever reason, Ignis’ perfection eluded film. 

* * *

Prompto kept trying. Whenever he thought he saw a moment, he was there to capture it.

Ignis looking particularly handsome as they’re traipsing through a patch of swamp? Prompto got the camera.

Ignis’ strong jaw sticking out as he’s talking to a vendor? Prompto took the shot.

Ignis smiling as his chocobo approaches him, head bowed and waiting for scratches? Prompto was all over it like green on curry. 

And yet, despite Prompto seizing every opportunity, he just could not capture Ignis on film! The handsome, perfect, gorgeous Ignis that Prompto saw every day never appeared when Prompto reviewed his pictures at the end of the night.

“Lighting sucks,” he muttered as he hunched over in his chair, clicking across the day’s photos. He ignored Noctis and Gladiolus practicing their sparring behind the tent, too screwed up in his own ruminations. “Weird face.” He deleted a few more bad photos, and heaved a sigh as he looked to the next set. “Motion blur…”

“Whatever are you up to, darling?” Prompto startled at Ignis’ voice, and looked up to see his lover standing at his shoulder. Prompto bit his lip for a moment, then tilted his camera screen into his chest.

“Promise not to laugh?” 

“Pinky swear.” Ignis smiled wryly. “If necessary. No, Prompto, no matter what it is, I won’t laugh.” 

“Fine.” Prompto sucked his lip in, hesitating a moment longer, before turning his camera towards Ignis. “I’ve been trying to catch you smiling, so I could have the perfect picture of you. I was gonna make it my phone background and get a huge print of it, but every time I tried to take pictures of you being awesome, amazing, and perfect, they never came out the way I wanted.” He flipped through a few of the last pictures he’d taken of Ignis and hadn’t deleted. “They came out well, and you look pretty cool in some of these! Just, they’re not perfect. You're not smiling, like you are in my head when I think of you.”

“Perfect,” Ignis repeated, brow furrowed, and he bent down to kneel next to Prompto. “I’m not sure that there is such a thing as perfect, and if there is, I certainly don’t fit the description.” 

“But Iggy, you’re amazing!” Prompto twisted around in the chair, wide-eyed. “The way you move! Your smile, the way you talk! All of those are perfect! I just can’t make how perfect you are appear on film!”

“I disagree.” Ignis shook his head. “Certainly, I’ve my skills, and some may find features of me appealing, but none of those make me perfect.”

Prompto’s heart ached. “You’re perfect to me.”

Ignis chuckled softly, the noise dissolving into the rush of wind through the trees. “I’m very happy to hear you say that. I may not believe I’m perfect, but knowing I sit so highly in your esteem is uplifting, to say the least.” He held an open hand out. “I have an idea. Perhaps I can help you get a better shot for your album, and for your own personal use.”

“Oh, sure.” Prompto put his camera in Ignis’ hand. Ignis took it gingerly, carefully, and examined the camera as if he'd never seen it before, fingers running over the buttons. He nodded, then adjusted himself to sit beside Prompto, their hips flush.

“I’ve only seen perfection in one place in this world.” Without further warning, Ignis turned the camera towards himself and kissed Prompto on the cheek, then took the snapshot just as his lips brushed against Prompto’s skin. 

Prompto heard the camera mechanism shudder, the click of the shutter and the tiny flash of light, and blinked his eyes back open to see Ignis pulling up his gallery. Sure enough, there was a photograph of Ignis kissing Prompto, perfectly timed to capture the little flash of surprise in Prompto’s eyes, of Ignis’ smile captured in his pursed lips and lifted brow, gentle firelight illuminating their blushing cheeks and bright expressions. 

“Perfect,” Ignis murmured, and kissed Prompto’s other cheek for good measure before returning to the camp stove. Prompto gaped at the photograph for a moment longer, stunned at just how perfectly happy Ignis looked kissing him. 

The frame was a little crooked, the shot was a little too close, and the technical qualities were lacking, in Prompto’s opinion, but oh, how they glowed. Ignis lit up for Prompto in a way that couldn’t be seen anywhere else, and now Prompto was sure that was how he wanted to keep Ignis in his memories forever, both his memory card, and in his head and heart. 

Only one thing to do now.

“Hey, Iggy?” Prompto hopped up and followed him back to the stove. “That really is perfect!” He held up the camera, grinning eagerly at the thought of what he had planned next. “Wanna see if we can improve on perfection?”


End file.
